Trinity Blood: Sanctus Lancea
by James Austin Valiant
Summary: A plan to create the ultimate weapon leads to the Professor's kidnapping and imprisonment. Will the AX be able to find him before it's too late? Chapter Four is up!
1. Torture

_Disclaimer: I do not own Trinity Blood. This is a sequel to my previous story, Habeas Everto, and begins about a year after the conclusion of that story. Enjoy!_

**Trinity Blood: Sanctus Lancea  
****By: James Austin Valiant**

The sweat started to pour off his face. The tight, enclosed room was suffocating him, pressing into him with the stale air that contained only his scent. He wished he could remember how he got there; he knew, but the memory had forced itself in the far reaches of his mind, where he could never hope to reach it. The man had already shed his outer shirt; he sat in the dark corner, trying his best to breathe normally.

After all the times he had told his friends to be careful, this was the one time he had ignored his own advice. The situation had appeared to be a trap, but he wasn't allowing himself to be cautious at the time. The Professor had a cardinal rule: there is always a way to figure things out. And this time, he had ignored that primal instinct. Was he slipping so much that he could no longer sense a trap?

To err is to be human, and as much as he hated to admit it, he was human. The overwhelming urge to vomit and evacuate every bit of squalid foodstuff from his stomach proved it, as did the treacherous smell invading his nostrils and overtook all his emotions. His unshaven beard gave him the visage of a callous, hardened criminal. Dry, chapped lips twisted in disgust and disdain and his tongue lusted for a drop of water. The callouses on his fingers showed the consistent and tedious work he had been forced to do, assembling gears and wires for months on end.

A small crack of light began to creep its way into the room, and the door at the far corner inched open. In it stood a man whose shadowy features were almost indecipherable for the lack of light. Darkness seemed to permeate through this man, yet there was an air of seeming calmness to him. A very hushed tone accompanied the stranger as he entered the room. This man in the doorway had, for sheer amusement, once stabbed and killed a man during a banquet with a steak knife. Brutality was no alien concept to him.

The Professor recalled other reports he had heard. Supposedly,Issak had been expelled and banned from traveling to several countries. Women all over feared him, for he was said to "discover" women, brutally rape and murder them. This was an evil soul, cultivated in an environment ruled by a vicious and unforgiving father, who had ceased to favor this dark son of his. Now, Panzer Magier was nothing more than an empty being, who tortured others for his own amusement.

The shadow broke into a sinister grin and addressed the Professor.

"William. I have received reports that work is proceeding at a good pace. Remember that the method for producing electrical repelling force must have provisions for imparting to a minute particle an extremely high charge." Isaak retrieved blueprints from his side.

"I trust that you and I will finally finish our project from so long ag—" The speaking man was interrupted by a sharp spit of blood and saliva that landed squarely on the toe of his right shoe.

"You arrogant idiot," the Professor spoke, as though struggling for every word, "This idea was stupid the first time we tried it, and it's even stupider to try it again. Sanctus Lancea is not a realistic, achievable idea!"

Striding forcefully into the room, Isaak grabbed the Professor by the back of the neck. When he realized that he was not going to stand, the dark haired Methuselah retrieved a weight from his pocket, and using it as a weapon, struck the Professor's knees. Grabbing the Professor once again, he forcefully dragged him out of the room, letting his boots drag stress marks in the ground.

The air outside the small room was no better than the air inside of it. It still stank, laden with the vapors of gallons of sweat and blood. In earlier times, it was rumored to have housed more than five-hundred prisoners. He knew where the man was taking him. Rumors spread around quickly and there was a proven truth to them. Now, they faced a wall that seemed to have a large sarcophagus growing out of it. The dark man smiled wryly, and threw open the door. The stench of a thousand deaths erupted from the enclosure. The Professor noticed sharp, metallic spikes and nails sticking out of all four sides of the sarcophagus, almost all of them were tipped with oxidized dark blood.

_So, this is his famous iron maiden_, the Professor thought. A device made up to torture and drive prisoners insane. With its enclosed space, soundproofing, and spikes, it was more than effective. Some iron maidens were created to kill, this one was not. It was created with the sole purpose of torture.

"So this is what you've been reduced to?" The Professor paused and chose his next words carefully. Under his breath, he uttered, "For the first hand man of such a powerful lord..."

"Now now, dear William. Mein Herr is truly a powerful and wise being, unlike your second rate watchdog you keep under Vatican control. Abel should keep trying to find you, though...how long has it been? A year?" Isaak taunted coolly.

"Listen Isaak," The Professor was not silent. "I am smarter than you, stronger than you, and at the end of this, I will be the one left standing."

Isaak von Kampfer did not answer with words. Instead, he forced the proud Professor into the grisly device. Slamming the door with an intensity that few could hope to display, he grinned, knowing the pain the Professor was feeling. It was pain that gave the dark man pleasure, pleasure that encompassed him and made him feel powerful.

Inside the iron maiden, the air was even more suffocating than the cell had been. The place began to grow darker, and old memories began to trespass on his current mindscape. The Professor attempted to collapse, but a sharp spike made him halt. There was nothing to do but stand…stand, take sparing breaths, hope and pray. Pray for his friends to rescue him. Pray for intercession. Pray for the strength, the integrity, the will to survive this torture.


	2. On Three

**On Three  
****By: James Austin Valiant**

"On the count of three." His whisper reached her ears, and she nodded. They had followed a tip all the way to Belfast, hoping that the search might lead them to recover their lost friend.

"One."

A whole year had gone by since they'd last seen the Professor. A thorough investigation of his office and living quarters revealed no signs of struggle. Esther cocked her gun.

"Two."

Abel adjusted himself into an aggressive stance. He, along with the rest of the AX, had combed every corner of the Vatican searching for answers. Whoever planned the kidnapping managed to cover their tracks well: not a single clue was left behind.

"Three!"

A heavy kick crashed down the wooden door, and the two AX members entered the building. The priest and the nun, guns drawn and aimed, slipped into the giant, warehouse-like room. A distant rumbling of voices drew their attention. Father Nightroad crouched behind a few large storage crates, and Sister Esther followed suit.

They moved in swiftly, without making a sound, closer to the voices. Now that they had been partners for some time, Abel and Esther worked beyond being a team. They could predict each other's movements and potential actions, and knew how to follow through to cover each other's backs. The rumbling of words became audible as the duo crept along the crates directly behind the shadowy figures.

"Are you sure this is it?" A deep voice asked.

"I'm positive. You won't find anything as pure as this anywhere else. Taste some yourself if you don't believe me, it comes with my personal guarantee." The raspier voice answered.

A rustling was heard, followed by lip smacking sounds. Esther looked at Abel, who had his eyes closed in concentration. _Two of them, two of us...the odds aren't bad. _He turned to Esther and nodded, giving her three winks and a tap on his nose with his index finger.

Esther knew what that signal meant. She and Father Nightroad had invented a whole system of wordless communication for situations just like this. She readied herself for the opportune moment to reveal.

"This is superb." The deep voice exclaimed, "Are you sure you're charging me the right price?"

"Ha!" The raspy voice laughed, "I suppose you want to pay more?"

"Hold it! Stay right where you are!" Sister Esther saw no better moment to make her entrance. She kept her aim steadily on the two shadows standing in the dim light. "Both of you, do not move a muscle. I have some questions that I want answered."

The dark skinned man, in his raspy voice, laughed loudly.

"Don't you see, Kerry?" He turned to the shorter man. "My stuff is so good that even the Vatican is looking to get in on it."

"Cram it, Fulton. The last thing I wanted was trouble, but luckily I came prepared. Guards!" Kerry waved his left hand.

Fulton's eyes went wide. "What the...why did you have guards with you? Did you expect some sort of double cross from me?"

"Of course I did! You _are_ Fulton "Fleabag" Reed, after all...GUARDS! Where are they?"

Esther cringed at the thought of battle as the crime lord Kerry O'Shaunessey became agitated at the absence of his armored protection. The fifth generation gangster had a hand in most of the criminal activity on the island nation of Erin, and gained quite a bit of notoriety since going head to head with Her Majesty's personal police force.

The red-headed boss was rumored to always travel with men equipped to the teeth with various guns and personal explosives. Even without any protection, Kerry was said to be skilled at handling firearms and even more skilled at hand to hand combat. The nun held her gun steady.

"As much as I'd love to stay and go to jail," Fulton smiled devilishly, "I'm keeping customers waiting. Have fun with the warrior nun!"

The taller man spun on his heel and made a break for the door. Before he got past the second row of crates, Fulton tripped, twisted his ankle and fell hard on the concrete floor. Slightly dazed, he looked down to see what exactly he'd tripped over. His mouth fell open when he realized that three black-suited, armed guards lay unconscious on the floor.

"They're all down!" He shouted.

"Vatican dogs..." Kerry retrieved his .44 Magnum and aimed back at Sister Esther. "I've had enough of this. You bust in here, manhandle my guards, and ruin my deal. If you think that I'm just going to let you drag me halfway around Europe, to imprison me in that _dreaded_ Roman prison, you've got another thing coming! Say your prayers..."

A click sounded behind the Irish crime lord, and he felt a barrel pressed against his back.

"We're not here to arrest anyone," Abel explained slowly, "we just want some answers to a few questions."

"You disrupt my business, and now I'm supposed to just go along with whatever you want?" Kerry asked, his gaze and gun still focused on Esther.

"We could have Scotland Yard here in three seconds flat," Esther said bravely, "and if you don't agree to our questioning, then not only will your deal be ruined, but business might be put on hold permanently."

The crime lord's weapon fell to his side, and he let out an exasperated sigh of defeat. "Fulton, can we reschedule?"

"Of course!" Came the voice of the dealer, who had managed to crawl his way to the exit, "You know where to find me."

"Place your weapon on the ground." Abel commanded, and Kerry did as he was told. The priest quickly grabbed the Irishman's arms and twisted them behind his back. The hold was snug, not enough to hurt the man, but enough to communicate that his nature was indeed serious. The taller priest led the other man to the far corner of the room, with Esther close behind them, her gun aimed at Kerry's head.

"What do you know about a possible kidnapping of a Vatican agent?" Esther started.

"I've heard nothing." A flat tone conveyed honesty from the crime lord.

Abel, however, was not satisfied. He roughly shoved Kerry against the wall.

"Wordsworth. What is the interest in him?"

Kerry snarled. "I have no idea, Father. Try saying 'please'."

Father Nightroad growled back, and Esther shot him a look. _Please, Father, we've come this far. Let's try to get the information that we need._

"Have you heard of any odd happenings, Mr. O'Shaunessey? Anything that might require outside help, something that might be based in science or technology, please?"

Kerry nodded as best he could. "There are...certain rumblings. Some of my business in Germanicus has been interrupted, and I have heard it's due to some sort of project taking place in the Prussian province, centered in Nemmersdorf. That is all I know. Now, I believe my release was a stipulation of this arrangement?"

Abel relaxed his hold, and Kerry slipped out easily. He rubbed his strained arms, dusted off his jacket and straightened his collar. He shoved past the clergy, making his way towards the same exit that Fulton had taken. Before reaching the door, Kerry turned and tipped an imaginary hat to Sister Esther.

"Thank you for your polite manner, Ms. Nun. I do say it should be rewarded!" Kerry O'Shaunessey withdrew a small pistol and fired directly at Esther, before sprinting out the door.

Esther dodged and fell to the ground. The bullet had just barely grazed her thigh, but there was still a fair amount of blood seeped though the skirt of her white habit. She gritted her teeth and began to pull back the layers to expose the wound; as she had thought, it wasn't a very big wound, but it still needed attention.

"Miss Esther! Are you all right?"

"I think so, Father," She answered confidently, "I just need to wrap this up and stop the bleeding."

Abel helped her tear a strip of white cloth from the hem of her habit, and started to wrap it tightly around her wound.

"I can handle this part, Father," Esther said, slightly embarrassed about receiving aid in something she was perfectly capable of doing.

"Nonsense, Miss Esther! You have seen me through worse, yes?" Using his teeth, Abel tore the long strip into smaller sections and wrapped them tightly around her thigh. His years of experience in dressings wounds was not lost on Esther; his fingers nimbly worked in a precise fashion, and before she could blink twice, he had finished.

Letting her drape her arm around his shoulder, Father Nightroad helped Sister Esther to a standing position. They stepped slowly along the open space, carefully avoiding the fallen bodies.

"So, what should we do now?" Esther asked, taking small steps.

"We rendezvous with the Iron Maiden and head to Nemmersdorf. Hang on," Abel tapped the comlink in his ear. "Sister Kate, two to transport. Also, please let the Yard know the whereabouts of both Kerry O'Shaunessey and Fulton Reed."

"Affirmative, Father Nightroad."

"I didn't know double crosses were in your nature, Abel," Esther teased.

"They are when those scum in question hurt people I car- my friends." Even though he meant to be completely serious, Father Nightroad felt his collar getting hot. He used his free hand to loosen it a bit, and helped the young nun to the exit with his other arm.

"It's important to have friends, don't you think, Father?"

He nodded, his smile reflecting a hint of sadness. "Life is lonely without them. If William wasn't my friend as well as an AX member, I doubt I'd be half as dedicated to this mission as I have been. When I was younger..." Abel pushed his glasses back up on his nose.

Esther's interest peaked, and she turned sharply. _Father Nightroad rarely speaks of his past._

"When I was younger," He repeated, "I used to think it would be wonderful to be alone. No one to bother me, or bug me, or hassle me. But when I had some time to experience it, I loathed it. I do enjoy my company and I surely would be lost without them."

"Have you ever been in love, Father Nightroad?" Esther knew she was taking a risk, but he seemed to be opening a bit. They stepped through the threshold and started down to the rendezvous point.

"Eh? Oh, heh heh, have I ever...well, I mean," His words came in spurts, "Well, isn't love part of the human condition? Come along now, Miss Esther, we must make sure we catch up with Sister Kate. Don't want to keep her waiting!"

"I think love is beautiful when it's the right person." Esther stated, hoping her conviction might prompt the priest into offering more of an explanation.

Instead, Abel flashed his trademark silly 'I-don't-really-want-to-keep-talking-about-this' smile. "Love is a strange and silly thing, Miss Esther...I'm not sure I'd ever want to be there again..."

_Damn it, Abel! That's not what you meant! _The silver-haired priest internally scolded himself.

Esther's strength seemed to return suddenly, and her stride began to dominate Father Nightroad's.

"Come on, Father," Her words were flat and without tone, "We don't want to keep Sister Kate waiting."


	3. Enterprise

**Enterprise  
****By: James Austin Valiant**

Sister Kate groaned and rubbed the back of her neck. She'd left Tres in command on the bridge of the Iron Maiden, opting to a grab a quick break in her ready room. The android priest was one of the few AX members she trusted to run her ship. Even though she knew her crew was more than capable of operating without someone in charge, Kate felt better knowing Tres was there.

Kate opened a file on her screen and begin to transcribe the day's event in her captain's log. Caterina made sure the entire AX had been deployed, searching for their lost comrade, and required consistent updates on what was going on. The entire department was racked by the Professor's kidnapping, and Sister Kate was no exception. She had known William since she was in her sophomore year at university, and she missed being able to talk to him or help him work on one of his inventions.

She stopped midway through her entry; Kate's mind had gone blank. _How many of these similar sounding entries have I written? _At first, they had started out with so many different leads and ideas, they were sure the Professor would be found by Christmas. December passed, then January and February, and while the intensity of the search never diminished, Kate knew that she wasn't the only one getting uneasy about ever finding the Professor.

"Oh, William," She found herself saying aloud, "if you only knew how high in demand you are."

A two-toned beep sounded.

"Enter." Kate beckoned, thankful for the interruption.

"Are you busy, Sister Kate?" Esther asked, coming into the captain's ready room.

"Not at all, Esther, please come in." Kate rose from her chair and walked over to her small cafe set-up. "Can I fix you a tea?"

"Yes, that sounds lovely, thank you." Esther sat as Kate retrieved two canisters from the shelf and flipped the switch on her electric kettle.

"How did things go in Belfast? I haven't read Father Nightroad's report yet." Kate questioned, measuring out the chamomile and licorice herbs.

"Well enough, I suppose," Esther stretched and yawned. She wasn't used to being up this late. "It went better than Prague and Venice, and definitely was more worthwhile than Caledonia."

"Hmm, well, you managed to give Scotland Yard an invaluable tip, which can only help strengthen the ties between the Vatican and Albion." Kate raised the herb mix to her nose, giving it a quick sniff.

"I suppose. Albion has certainly become a more central world power in the past few months." Esther commented.

"Well, Esther," Kate started, pouring the hot water over the herbal tea, "the entire world was turned on its side when Brigitte died. I remember that the Vatican was getting ready for a possible civil war. Thank God Mary Spencer was able to prove her claim to the throne, or the country might still be in turmoil. She has really restored a sense of purpose to the people of Albion."

Esther nodded. "I certainly hope that she helps to ease the tension between the Vatican and Albion. Kerry mentioned Prussia and Nemmersdorf as a center of unusual activity. After we let him go, he shot me."

"He did what?" Kate spun around.

"I'm fine, don't worry, the bullet only grazed my leg. Father helped me wrap it, and I went to sick bay as soon as you picked us up. I feel fine, really." She smiled reassuringly.

"I'm glad to hear that, Esther," Kate strained the tea and set a steaming cup in front of the red-head. "To be honest, I'm not surprised that scumbag's tip is leading us to Prussia. The region has always been an issue, even for Ludwig."

"What do you mean?" Esther sipped the soothing concoction.

"Germanicus isn't as stable as the King makes it appear. The countryside and cities we usually see on broadcasts stick to the pro-Ludwig sections of Bavaria and the Sudetenland. Prussia has disagreed with his reign since the coronation, and you'll notice the absence of Prussian representation at his state functions." Kate explained, taking her seat.

"I didn't know that. Is there anything special about Nemmersdorf?" The young nun continued to nurse her drink.

"Not really," Kate answered too quickly, and immediately Esther knew she was hiding something.

"Are you sure?" Esther pushed further, rising out of her seat. "If you can't tell me, I can find out on my own."

"Esther, please. There's just some questionable history behind Nemmersdorf, but it's nothing that's relevant to the Professor or whatever is going on here. Our main goal is William's safety, not dredging up things from the past."

"Oh so you can sit there and praise Queen Mary of Albion and slam King Ludwig, but when it comes to actual information, you don't want to tell me? Come on, Sister Kate, I'm not some preteen novice. I'm an AX agent and you and Father Nightroad and all of you, can't keep treating me like I'm inferior." Esther's trademark temper was flaring up.

"I never said you were inferior, Sister Esther," Kate rose to meet Esther's fiery gaze, "I've always been supportive of you. You want the truth? More than nine hundred years ago, the whole of Prussia was leveled by Contra Mundi. They rounded up more than a million humans and marched them to from Memel to Nemmersdorf.

"It was a death march...many collapsed from exhaustion and hunger, and they shot anyone who tried to get away. By the time they reached Nemmersdorf, half of their prisoners had died, and the rest were brutally slaughtered. It was considered the most atrocious act ever perpetrated by the Contra Mundi."

"Why exactly was that so hard to tell me?" Esther put her hands on her hips.

"I don't know. How is Father Nightroad?" Kate bit her lip, wondering if the mention of Nemmersdorf had trigged anything in the priest.

"He's fine," Esther sank back into her chair, "I just wish he didn't feel so distant. He's my closest friend here and sometimes, he just acts like he's a million miles away."

"Abel's under a lot of pressure, Sister," Kate poured herself a cup of the relaxing brew, "The Professor's disappearance is different for him than the rest of us."

"How so?" Esther recalled that, even as the rest of them had tired, Father Nightroad's motivation never seemed to fade.

"Abel knows we can handle ourselves, but he likes to think of himself as our protector. I can see how this is eating at him, don't you?" Sister Kate turned back to her computer screen and typed a few words into the entry.

Immediately Esther felt guilty. She had noticed Father Nightroad's uneasiness increasingly over the last three months, and even his eating habits had begun to change. Instead of his usual scarfing down food, he'd pick at his plate and actually leave some of it behind. _Here I am, trying to draw his feelings for me out into the open, when deep down inside, this is tearing him apart. How could I be so inconsiderate? What kind of friend am I, that I didn't even notice these things until now?_

"Don't beat yourself up, Esther," Kate seemed to be reading her thoughts. "We've all been worn down by this search, both physically and mentally. Just try not to worry too much, okay? Abel cares for you."

"I know he does, Sister." Esther replied, getting down to the bottom of her cup, and noticed Sister Kate was staring straight at her.

"Give him time, Esther," Kate spoke softly, "I don't know everything there is to know about his life, but I do know it wasn't easy for him. Just...don't try to push him. Abel will come around on his own time, and even though he doesn't always act like it, he's still a bit shy at heart."

Esther's met Sister Kate's advice with a wordless, blank stare and rose-tinted blush to her cheeks.

The young nun found her voice, "I think I should probably be getting to bed. When do you expect the Iron Maiden to arrive in Prussia?"

"Eleven hundred."

"Excellent, that sounds great." Esther's words tumbled out.

Kate smiled. "It's no problem, Esther. Goodnight."

"Goodnight." The door to the ready room slid open. "Sister Kate?"

The blonde nun looked up. "Yes?

"Thank you." Esther returned Kate' smile, and started off to her quarters.


	4. Chain of Command

**Chain of Command**  
**By: James Austin Valiant**

The Professor yawned and stretched. The straw stuffed mattress that served as his bed seemed like a pile of feathers compared to the iron maiden he had been in for eleven hours. _Eleven hours, fifty two minutes and thirty seconds. _It wasn't hard to keep track of time when there was nothing else to do but work and sleep. They had taken everything from him upon his arrival - his watch, his pipe and tobacco and his sword cane. They had stripped him of his outer vestments - he was left in a simple black cassock, which was quickly becoming the dirtiest cassock he'd ever owned.

A nameless, masked guard approached the Professor's cell, carrying a small tray. Isaak knew better than to let the Professor be able to familiarize himself with the guard; they were referred to as 'wachtposten' rather than by names and ranks. He knew William well enough to know that any distinguishing characteristic was enough to spin the wheels in his mind towards an escape.

The wachtposten set the tray down at the horizontal opening between the bars, and stepped back. His lord's instructions were to watch the prisoner eat and make sure he finished every morsel of food. The guard had no doubt in his mind that the food was drugged; he had seen Lord Isaak treat prisoners much worse than this Albionian priest; as a matter of interest, he'd never seen the dark lord take so much personal interest in one prisoner. Whatever he was planning was big indeed.

The Professor eyed the meal cautiously. While he had resisted eating for his first week of captivity, hunger had overtaken him by the second week and he tore into the multi-colored, pureed substances as though he had become Abel Nightroad. _Abel._ There wasn't a day that went by that they didn't all go through his thoughts; _Abel, Leon, Caterina, Esther...are they even still looking for me? Did they even start? Surely they must have found some lead, some trail to me..._

He sipped the pureed piles from his tray; Isaak prohibited silverware, be it plastic, metal or otherwise. Nothing on the tray was identifiable by either sight or smell; too many colors, too many flavors to discern between one from another. Isaak knew William all too well; identification of any culinary distinction might give away the location of captivity. How he longed to once again command a stovetop, to spend hours creating his perfect crepes. Had that truly been the last time he'd seen Abel Nightroad?

_"I like your dogged determination, Abel, I always have," He was beginning to sound like himself again. The Professor joined Abel at the table, grabbing the jar of apricot jam. "You and the AX will be more than sufficient."_

_The two sat in uncomfortable silence, the sound of clinking glass jars and metal flatware much louder that it should have been. The Professor savored the apricot almost as much as Abel enjoyed the plum. Generous amounts of crepes disappeared as the minutes rolled by, and a golden, early morning sky peeked in through the wispy curtains of the kitchenette. He watched as Abel leaned back in his chair and rubbed his stomach. The Professor couldn't remember the last time he'd seen Abel eat to such fullness._

_Yes, _he thought, _how could I have forgotten Abel's dogged determination_? Even when the others gave up, even when Caterina ordered him not to, Father Nightroad wouldn't rest until his friend had been found. The Professor only had to think back to Abel's unpredictable behavior after the death of Sister Noelle; he had been so rash and distant that even Caterina had trouble calming him down.

Abel was just one of the components of the AX; they were all his friends. He had known Kate since they were both students at Londinium University, and he'd watched Esther grow into a confident young woman and seasoned warrior. Tres was like a son to him, and William remembered when he and Caterina had brainstormed the idea of the AX. But he had to be realistic. As valued a member of the team that he was, it had been a year and he'd seen no one but the wachtposten and Isaak. He couldn't even remember what AX protocol was for missing agents.

There was a note attached to the underside of the Professor's tray. He stuffed the last bit of multi-colored mash into his mouth and picked it up.

_William,_

_You've had an appropriate amount of time for eating and any facility use. We are at a delicate point in our work. The wachtposten shall escort you to the work room. _

_Love always,_

_Isaak_

The Professor wrinkled the paper into a small ball and threw it in his toilet. Every day since they'd started work, Isaak would sarcastically sign every single note 'Love always.' Sure, maybe they'd been friends at one point in time. But that was eons ago in the Professor's mind, back when he was one of the four top students at Londinium University. He often wondered if it was a jab at the relationship he knew Isaak was jealous of...

_Rebecca. Enough time has passed, but the pain is still there. _Her death was the reason he still resisted Isaak as best he could, and the cause of his latest stay in the dark man's torture device. The last time he had seen his fiancee was a scene that never left his mind. How he wished he had hugged her, kissed her. He had been so engrossed in the old Sanctus Lancea that he and Isaak were working on, he had forgotten to say I love you. How it replayed over and over again in his mind: Rebecca, leaning against the doorframe of the laboratory. Rebecca, with her auburn hair and the playful twinkle in her eye. The Albionian priest shook his head and rose to his feet.

_Time to get her out of my head. _

"Wachtposten, I'm ready." The guard unlocked the cell and escorted the priest down the hallway, gun at the ready.

* * *

"William! What kept you?" Isaak's voice was uncharacteristically bright.

"Nothing. Nothing kept me." The Professor grumbled and rolled up his sleeves. Isaak had a fresh set of schematics out in front of him, and the priest longed to once again fill the blue paper with his own designs and ideas.

"We need to make sure that the right modifications are made to the high vacuum tube, or else the particles will not be conducted into the atmosphere at the right velocity." Isaak explained, running over his notes.

"I still don't understand why you insist we use tungsten instead of mercury. Mercury is more potent and ensures a better reaction with the supercharged particles." The Professor argued.

Isaak glared. "It's because we used mercury that the last test failed. I keep telling you, tungsten is the only other option. All of your theories have proven to be horrendous failures."

"I haven't failed. I've just eliminated the wrong options. I'm telling you, if we alter the size of the valvular conduit by two millimeters and insulate the bulbs more efficiently, then the tests will prove successful." The Professor reasoned.

Isaak stayed silent for a minute. He had to consider; this was William's invention after all and he himself had spent years trying to construct Sanctus Lancea alone and could not follow the specifications that the priest had come up with all those years ago. Then again, the main reason he needed William to construct this machine was because he was the only one with original copies of the blue prints, and Isaak had promised Lord Cain that the device would be completed.

"What are these modifications? They aren't my design..." The Professor examined them closely. The specifications called for trilithium resin and nitrotrinanium, two elements that were in their infancy of development when he and Isaak were students at Londinium. According to known data, both were highly volatile compounds and the Professor had even heard rumors of a cease and desist order issued by none other than the Empress herself as far nitrotrinanium experiments in the Empire were concerned.

Isaak stayed silent and moved to his own worktable, nonchalantly scanning some vials. "I informed Lord Cain than the Sanctus Lancea would be ready for a demonstration in a week's time."

The Professor huffed. "I hope you cleaned up that iron maiden of yours, because until I get some answers, I am not finishing my end of this project."

"This isn't a bargaining exercise, William. You don't get choices as a prisoner."

"Listen, Butler," The Professor spat, using Isaak's alias as an insult. "You know what the Sanctus Lancea is capable of. The more you jail me, the less time I have to improve on your mistakes, and the more angry your lord becomes."

Isaak refused to turn his attention away from his worktable, and instead nodded to the massive piece of machinery that occupied more than half the room.

"Descend the stairs, William and get to work on that valvular conduit. We'll try both our elements before the day is out."

The Professor grabbed Isaak by the shoulder and spun him around so that they were face to face.

"Someone is making changes to my machine, and I demand to know what they are. You've always been second place to me as far technology and science, Butler," The Professor did his best to control a rising temper, "And if you don't tell me what the means of these added elements are, I will simply refuse to implement them."

Isaak remained aloof. "That threat hasn't forced me to make concessions before. You and I both know you are far too proud to let Sanctus Lancea go on without your seal of workmanship. Now, finish all your work like a good boy and I might think about letting you have a real meal this week."

The Professor swallowed the pool of saliva in his mouth.

"You're not going to get me to reveal anything." Isaak chuckled softly. "Look at these additional particle accelerators," He seemed to float back to the blue prints, "And devise your own conclusions about the necessity of nitrotrinanium and trilithium resin. Surely you haven't lost that intuitive nature. What was it that you used to say? 'There's a way to figure this out. There's always a way.' So get to it, William."

Isaak smiled coolly as the Professor shuffled away. Breaking William had only been half of the process and to be honest, the least amount of fun. It was the mind games he excelled at, the twisting of words and the use of the Albionian priest's intellectual prowess against him. _Of course he would want to know about these alterations but he'll have to figure it out for himself. The pursuit of knowledge has always been one of his driving forces, and withholding it might just be enough to drive him._

Panzer Magier took a seat at the table with the blue prints and notes scattered about it, and watched his unkempt former friend work. He simply marveled at how effortlessly the man picked up on the work from two days prior. William was a fine worker, and all the tricks Isaak had to motivate him seemed to be working. At this rate, the Sanctus Lancea would be complete in five days rather than seven, and Lord Cain would be pleased.

Father Wordsworth sighed as he ascended a ladder to the business end of the massive high vacuum tube. Isaak was right; the Professor was far too proud of his experiment to let his life's work end here. Although the Sanctus Lancea was a dangerous machine, he still longed for it's day of completion. He'd been doing this at the University, ignoring the warnings about structural instability and approaching the critical limits of known physics. He'd hadn't heeded them then, and saw no need to start now. Despite the imprisonment and the mind games, he'd find a way to make Sanctus Lancea fully operational.


	5. Wolf in the Fold

**Wolf in the Fold**  
**By: James Austin Valiant**

The only sound resounding from the small study was the hum of a computer. Abel Nightroad sat comfortably in the silence that had surrounded him for the past five hours. The only light in the room came from the computer he had been running, searching file after file for follow-up information on Kerry's operation and Nemmersdorf. Abel had tried, best he could, to stay up to date but the constant changes in politics from country to country were almost impossible to keep up on. He knew a bit here and there from what flowed in from cafeteria conversations and the Vatican's xenophobic newspaper.

The silver haired priest leaned back in his chair and took off his glasses, rubbing his eyes. It was almost one clock in the morning, and they were bound to be somewhere over Belginum at the moment, maybe Brussels or Halle. He really couldn't remember the last time he'd had a good night's sleep...Christmas, maybe? What month was it, anyway? Father Nightroad wasn't sure, but it had to be sometime in mid spring.

_What have I managed to figure out so far? _He squinted at the computer screen. _Kerry wasn't lying about operating in Prussia...heck, from what these sheets are showing, he's operating fifty dummy shipping companies out of Konigsberg alone. With an estimated profit of eighty thousand lira per month, that's enough to cause suspicion of the Kerry syndicate working with the..._

"...the Orden." That name left a rotten taste on the tip of his tongue. The Rosen Kruez Orden, the secret military that hid in the shadows and manipulated events of the world with undercover agents and well-planted spies. Abel knew there were several planted in his sister's court, as well as among the Vatican and Albion. Ever since he had learned from Seth that Cain was still alive, he had suspected his brother having a hand in the Rosen Kruez. They were nothing more than an ambiguous extension of the original Contra Mundi, a bastardization of the original group of dedicated, sadistic warriors that pretty much controlled the entire world.

"Enough!" Abel struggled to stop his thoughts. He couldn't bear to remember the person he'd once been, the anger and genocidal rage that festered in his very being and radiated out through his actions and that he spent centuries learning how to maintain. He wouldn't let these memories dictate his actions or make him act out violently. There could be harmony between the Methuselah and the Terran, the Empire and the Vatican, Albion and Germanicus. He caressed the crucifix that hung around his neck. _That's what she believed, and that's what I believe, too._

The priest turned his attention back to the reports on the computer screen. _Prussia. The only Germanic state which did not recognize Ludwig as the legitimate heir to the throne of Germanicus. All those revolutionary, anti-monarchy groups had migrated to the east, building up military stockpiles and constructing training camps. Maybe even harboring a terrorist cell or two. Not to actually overthrow Ludwig, but just enough to saber rattle and make their presence known._

"So..." Abel thought aloud, "A group of well-organized, anti-monarchists who allow criminal activity within their borders. With all the crimes families and organizations thankful for the amnesty, this is going to be like finding a needle in a haystack..."

The Rosen Kruez.

"...but then again, all roads lead to Rome, don't they?" There were no official numbers on the size of the Orden, and little was known about the actual members that were documented. _There aren't going to be any bright, neon signs leading us to them...if it's even them we're looking for to find the Professor. But then, how would Kerry know if he wasn't doing business with them? What if he's just screwing with us and this is another pointless search... _Abel removed his glasses and rubbed his face

"Hey! Wake up, Father Four-Eyes!"

Abel turned his gaze to the Spanish priest standing in the doorway. "I am awake, Leon. I've been awake for a while."

"Well, that's amazing! Aren't you usually asleep by now?" Leon walked in and reclined on Abel's bed, his mud-filled boots dripping onto the comforter.

"Please take your feet off my bed." Abel asked softly, trying to quell the headache that Leon's loud voice had brought on. "Can't you come back tomorrow? And for that matter, why aren't you asleep?"

Leon scratched his chest. "When you do the kind of time I've done, the first thing you learn is how to be alert all the time. I can't come back tomorrow. We're leaving in an hour."

Abel's kept his jaw from dropping. "We...but that's...we're barely - I'll have to wake Esther!"

"Stay where you are, scatterbrain," The scruffy priest commanded, brandishing a letter from his pocket. "This mission has nothing to do with Red. This is you and me, mano a mano."

The silver haired priest snatched the paper from Leon. Sure enough, it had the official watermark of the Vatican stationary, and was signed by Cardinal Sforza herself. It said that he and Leon were to meet up with an AX operative in Dusseldorf, and from there they proceed incognito to the Prussian city of Nemmersdorf.

_Nemmersdorf. That's where I was when Cain.._._no. No more bad memories. Not tonight._

"Why would Caterina give you these orders and not me? This doesn't make any sense." Abel scratched his head, plopping down on the bed.

Leon pushed his boots off. "Who knows how women operate? I was just eating in the galley and one of the deacons came in with this letter. One minute they love ya, the next minute they are insanely jealous of their long desired loves running around with pretty young nuns."

Abel blinked. "Huh? What are you talking about?"

Leon stood up on Abel's bed and jumped off, leaving two very-well defined footprints on the edge of the bedspread. "Nevermind, four eyes. Just don't get too hung up on anything, we've got a mission to complete. Find the Brainiac and get him back home. And if we can find him, we won't have to put anyone else in danger."

"Awww...the scraggly warrior with a heart of gold! Why, I bet they'll make a children's movie about your life, won't they? Loveable, squeezeable Father Leon!"

Leon lit a cigarette. "Shut up, would you? God, you got a big mouth. It's a wonder that Red enjoys hanging around you...maybe a real man would give her a run for her money. Or, judging from the last time we were on a manhunt for an AX member, a real woman."

"Oh come on, that wasn't even Esther's fault. It was all a set up!" Abel huffed, untying his bootlaces. "Shahrzad was protecting Esther and you know that. If you don't mind, Leon, I'd like to get some sleep, especially if we're leaving in an hour."

The Spanish priest took a long drag from his cigarette before tossing it into the half empty coffee mug at Abel's bedside. "Look, all I'm saying is she's young, ok? Girls have a tendency to change their minds a lot, especially when it comes to partners. Girls are girls, and they generally don't know any better. So just relax, calm down and keep your head on straight. Ol' Leon will show you how it's done."

"She's not just any girl." Abel let the simplicity of his statement echo, and the room went quiet for a moment.

"Of course she's not." Leon exited the room and Abel shut his eyes.

_Of course she's not? Of course she's not! She's too kind, compassionate, yet still has that killer instinct and the temper of a tyrant. _The silver haired priest calmed his thoughts as he reached into his bedside drawer. He scribbled a brief note, folded it into thirds, and scribbled her name on the top. He hoped she would read it. Father Nightroad smiled softly, and the soft hum of his computer lulled him into an immediate sleep.

* * *

The smell of fresh paint and sawn wood greeted the noses of the two men opening the doors to the building. The façade of this basilica was modest and simplistic by design in comparison to the six other original pilgrim churches, but once inside, the two men were reminded of the grandeur of seventeenth century design in Rome. Built over the very catacombs that once held the remains of Saints Peter, Paul, and Sebastian, this particular basilica held much more history than it let on.

The recent remodeling, taking place over the past ten months, was now nearly complete. The craftsmanship put into its restoration helped to retain much of its original glory, and yet it had also shifted the entire atmosphere of the interior. But perhaps, that was a good thing.

Ian Desmond stood frozen for a moment, taking in the expanse of light marble, arching up over two stories tall and separating the space into smaller alcoves. Light spilled in from three large windows on the left half of the building, illuminating the freshly varnished pews, and the brightly colored ligneo ceiling.

Behind him, Father Giuseppe Pommodori gently tapped Desmond's shoulder, prompting him inside. Their footsteps echoed softly back at them as they made their way down the center aisle. Desmond gazed at an altar on the right as they passed by; it held the remains of the column which Sebastian had been tied to during his martyrdom. A flash of his imagination went off without a cue and he froze on the spot, then the serene visage of Saint Sebastian materialized in his mind.

Pommodori continued forward, passing Desmond as he slowed down, leading the way to the greater altar. He hated having to interrupt a good stroll down memory lane, but they had not come all this way to reminisce.

"Come this way, Ian." Pommodori stepped up to the greater altar and turned around.

"Yes Father." Desmond quickly caught up to his tutor without running. Since his entry into the seminary, Pommodori had taken him fully under wing. Not only had he been given a fresh start in his life, he had been given a home. Pommodori offered his knowledge and his personal library, and gave his full support and encouragement. Desmond had grown to admire and respect Pommodori, and think of him as more than just a mentor.

As Desmond learned, read, and researched, he had also progressed much more quickly than his fellow students; Desmond was now a Deacon, and very close to becoming a full priest. As his graduation day neared, he realized there were many more opportunities open to him than ever would have been open had he remained a monk of the Order of Saint Sebastian.

"Do you sense any entities in the vicinity?" Pommodori kept still, watching Desmond's face as he closed his eyes to concentrate.

Desmond slowly blocked out the feeling of the warm light on his skin, shut off the soft sounds of breathing and the people on the streets outside. Tuning into the pool of energy around them, he detected no flaws in it. He pushed through the wisps of light blue, spreading the beautiful energy into every crease and corner of the church; he then expanded the energy up to the ceiling of the greater altar.

As he turned back around, he saw a shadow where there hadn't been one before. The pool of energy seemed to be swirling around a large and dark abyss in the floor before them.

"Father I'm sensing…" Desmond's mind rushed to focus; trying his best to describe it, "Something dark, coming up from the catacombs below."

"Oh?" Pommodori's voice was inquisitive, pressing Desmond for a better description.

"It wasn't there before, it wasn't here when we came in. It's something else…" Desmond's brow furrowed as he tried to discern the source. "Do you sense it father?"

The black abyss grew and a tall tentacle of black energy rose up from beneath the floor. It hovered in the air, gently swaying back and forth; it seemed to be absorbing the light energy.

"Father?" Desmond opened his eyes to meet an empty space next to him where Pommodori should have been standing. He jerked his head around in search of motion. "Father Pommodori!"

A wisp of black caught his eye and slowly, disbelievingly, his gaze turned upward to where Pommodori hovered in struggle, mid-air.

Muffled screams escaped the old priest as Desmond reached for the hem of his cassock. Attempting to pull him down was futile, Pommodori swayed back and forth just like the black tentacle had been doing. An invisible force seemed to be trying to suffocate the priest, wringing the life from him.

As Pommodori's body was brought upright by the force, Desmond was pushed to the floor. The force changed tactics, freeing the priest's mouth at the same time a shield of fire encircled the area.

"This is not demonic energy." Desmond spoke to himself. "This can't be real!" He shut his eyes, running at the barrier of flames. If it was not a demonic force, then the fire must only be an illusion to keep him from trying to help. But he was repelled back again as he felt the flames on his hands and forearms, falling back against the wall he stared in disbelief at the charred and burnt skin.

"Ian! The psalms!" Pommodori managed to yell.

Desmond ran to the rear of the greater altar, gingerly unfolding the golden bound Bible. To his surprise, he had opened the book to exactly the page he wanted. He spun around and began his prayer, swirling his own aura into his words against the entity.

"Whoever dwells in the shelter of the Most High will rest in the shadow of the Almighty. I will say of the Lord, 'He is my refuge and my fortress, my God, in whom I trust.' Surely he will save you from the fowler's snare and from the deadly pestilence!" A flash of his own ordeal played in his mind as he heard his memory's voice of Pommodori and Esther reciting the same psalm along with him.

As Desmond recited, the ferocity of the force intensified, the barrier of flames became the only light as the dark energy manifested itself around the entire interior, blotting out the windows.

"He will cover you with his feathers, and under his wings you will find refuge; his faithfulness will be your shield and rampart. You will not fear the terror of night, nor the arrow that flies by day, nor the pestilence that stalks in the darkness, nor the plague that destroys at midday!" Desmond cast one scorched hand forward instinctively as his own energy simultaneously shot forward at the invisible entity.

The feeble cries of Pommodori faded as he was thrown against the marble steps, then he rose into the air again before being slammed against the back wall. The black tentacle whirled the priest around, letting his body smash into any obstacle in his path. Unlit candles cracked and crumbled, books flew from the loft office, and the heavy oak pews in the aisle were slowly being dragged towards the epicenter of the shadowy force.

"A thousand may fall at your side, ten thousand at your right hand, but it will not come near you. You will only observe with your eyes and see the punishment of the wicked!" Although Desmond was watching the events unfold with disbelief, his voice rang strong with the determination of banishing the unknown force. "If you say, 'The Lord is my refuge,' and you make the Most High your dwelling, no harm will overtake you, no disaster will come near your tent. For he will command his angels concerning you to guard you in all your ways; they will lift you up in their hands, so that you will not strike your foot against a stone!"

The force slowed down its flailing, dropping Pommodori's body on the floor at Desmond's feet. Tears reached his eyes as he watch the blood seeping from the priest's wounds, and with gritted teeth he turned his attention back to the entity.

"I say unto you, be gone! This is a sacred house and I banish you from its sanctuary! In the name of the father, son, and Holy Spirit, I command you to depart!" On his last statement, Desmond dropped the golden Bible and threw both charred and blistered hands forward, unknowingly casting his will against the darkness. When he opened his eyes again, there was no trace of the invisible being.

The light returned through the windows, and Desmond fell to his knees. Wiping a trickle of blood from his mentor's forehead, he gasped for breath through his tears. The emotion he had temporarily purged during the heat of his retaliation suddenly washed over him. He was utterly confused, replaying the image of the dark tentacle in his mind. Although it had acted and reacted like a demonic force, he hadn't sensed the underworld as its source.


End file.
